


Ama Fratrem Tuum Semper

by katysgonecrazy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Apocalypse, Dean!Michael, Lucifer!Sam, Michael!Dean, Sam!Lucifer, angel!Sam, angel!dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-12
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-19 03:37:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1454005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katysgonecrazy/pseuds/katysgonecrazy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a carefully constructed plan that brought Sam to kill Lilltih. Lucifer created a plan so complex, that even he wouldn't understand it until its completion. The plan succeeds, Lucifer escapes. But there is one thing that Lucifer always seems to forget. He will always love his brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Free

Lillith was dead.

The room seemed to spin around Sam, time had not yet returned to its normal speed. His labored breaths seemed to fill his ears, though a faint pounding could be heard. ‘Dean…’ a small part of him seemed to cry out.

Lilith was dead.

Dead!

But something wasn’t right.

Blood was seeping from the fallen body…leaking heavily, leaving a path as it moved, yes the blood was undoubtedly moving.

“What the hell…” Sam whispered. This was…this wasn’t what he’d expected. Nothing was supposed to happen when Lilith fell…it was supposed to just end!

“I can’t believe it…” Ruby’s voice brought Sam back up to speed.

“Ruby…” Sam turned to look at her, something twisting uncomfortably in his gut. “What’s going on?”

But Ruby didn’t seem to hear him. Her gaze was focused on the blood, following its curving path on the floor with an almost…rapture. “You did it…I mean, it was a little touch and go there for awhile there but…” Finally Ruby looked up and her eyes stared into Sam’s with worship. “You did it.”

The twisting in his gut only intensified at the look on Ruby’s face. “What? What did I do?”

“You opened the door,” Ruby breathed, her face moving closer to Sam’s, “and now my master is free, you’re free at last!”

The truth his Sam like an iron weight. “No, no, no, He-Lilith! I _stopped_ her! I killed her!”

“And it is written, that the first demon shall be the last seal…and you busted her open! I can’t believe it! It finally happened!”

His head was pounding, insides crumbling. Sam was being torn down from the inside out, a constant mantra playing in his head, ‘No no no no...’

“Oh my god…”

“Guess again!” Ruby said, her voice positively gleeful. The smile on her face was so wide, so genuine, and Sam could only stare at her, a thrill of….something…racing through him.

Ruby’s smile seemed to fall. “You don’t even realize it yet,” she said, and Sam couldn’t help but feel like she wasn’t talking to him. “Do you know how hard this was! All the demons out for my head, no one knew! I was the BEST of those sons of bitches, the most loyal! Not even Alistair knew! Only Lilith!” Her voice was rising, and part of Sam…part of Sam did know. Somehow…everything made sense, and yet it didn’t. If only his head would stop pounding! “Yeah, I’m sure you’re a little angry right now but I mean, come _on_ Sam! You have to admit, I’m…I’m _awesome!_ ”

“You _bitch_ …” Sam forced, out, clinging to the anger coursing through him, familiar, the only thing he was absolutely sure of. “You _lying bitch_!”

Sam raised his hand, wanting nothing more that to kill the demon standing in front of him, but pain ripped through his body, the effort from killing Lilith making him too weak to even stand. With a strangled cry, he fell back clutching his head, wanting the pain to stop…to end.

“Don’t hurt yourself Sammy, its useless,” Ruby said, her voice now soft and gentle. “You shot your payload on the boss.”

“The blood….you poisoned me,” Sam shot at her through the haze of his mind. He didn’t want Ruby to be gentle with him. He wanted to rage at her, have revenge on her, cause her to bleed and scream in pain!

“No…it wasn’t the blood,” she said in that same tone, her voice drawing closer as she bent down to Sam’s level. “It was you, and your choices. I just gave you the options and you chose the right path, every time! You didn’t need the feather to fly, you had it in you the whole time, Dumbo!”

Sam turned his face from her too angry, too sick to look her in the face. Because he knew she was right.

Then Ruby was moving again, kneeling down between his legs, a sort of reverence lighting up her eyes as she spoke to him softly…lovingly. “I know it’s hard to see it now, but this is a miracle. Everything Azazel did and Lilith did, just to get you here, and you were the _only one_ who could do it.”

“Why?” he demanded, his voice breaking pathetically. “Why me?”

“Because, because it had to be you, Sammy. It _always had to be you_ ,” her hands came up to stroke at his face, clinging to him, praising him with light touches. “You saved us…” she whispered, gazing with adoration into his eyes. “You’ve finally been set free. Everything…this whole plan, everything you constructed happened just the way you wanted it too. And once the door opens, once you realize everything I’ve done because of you, for you, you’re going to be so grateful! You’ll be so pleased with me! Everything I did was for you, and you’ll reward me for my loyalty to you!”

Sam’s entire body was shaking now, Ruby’s words swirling around him. Nothing she said was saying made sense! And yet…a part of him…deep within himself, knew exactly what she was saying. Part of him…was excited, thrilled, but he was so confused, he didn’t want to be thrilled, he wanted to be horrified, disgusted! He wanted-

A loud bang interrupted them as the door was suddenly bust open.

‘Dean!’ his mind seemed to sob, and for a moment, Sam was able to push away the confusion, focus only on his brother.

Ruby was off of Sam in a flash. She stood before Dean, brimming with confidence and pride. “You’re too late!”

“I don’t care!” Dean snarled at her, and without pause, Sam knew how to work alongside his brother.

He came up behind Ruby, grabbing her by the arms, and in her brief moment of panic and confusion, Dean stabbed her own knife through her stomach, killing Ruby once and for all.

Ruby’s body fell to the ground, and suddenly there was nothing but Sam and Dean. Their eyes locked, and Sam was hit with a wave of guilt, regret, sorrow…

It was too familiar.

“… _I’m sorry_ ,” the words slipped from his mouth without his knowledge or consent. And in that moment, the moment before the spiraling blood on the floor opened to release the devil from his cage, Sam knew the whole truth.

The light was blinding, the power and rage of an archangel scorned was lighting up the room. Lucifer’s grace was escaping from Hell. Sam watched, transfixed. It was beautiful, and terrible, the very essence of grace in its rawest form. He saw it and he longed for it.

Dean’s hand grasped onto the front of Sam’s shirt, bring Sam back to the present, to humanity. “Sammy, lets go!”

But Sam stood still, two parts of himself fighting each other. His humanity, his grace. An absent hand came up to cling to the material of his big brother’s jacket, a gesture so natural.

“Dean…” he whispered. And then came the realization of what was about to happen. What would happen to Dean if he was exposed to an archangel’s appearance? The part of him that was wholly Sam took over, the fear of losing Dean choking out everything else.

“Come on!” Dean yelled, and Sam didn’t wait. He was half being dragged, half pushing them both out of the room, but Sam felt his grace flare up. The doors snapped shut, locked and unmovable, unwilling to let his body go.

The noise was incredible. Sam looked to Dean, a well of human emotions surging through him.

‘No, no, Dean, no’

The pain was unbearable. He could feel it, all around him. His grace joining with his body. Becoming part of him once again, becoming whole.

And then the church was gone. No noise, no light. The Winchester brothers found themselves on a plane, flying over Ilchester and descending towards Baltimore.

“Wh…what the hell?” Dean asked aloud. But his younger brother didn’t answer.

Sam (was he still Sam?) was silent, two different lives and thoughts warring inside him. Everything was confusion, nothing seemed certain. But one thing was true, whether Sam wanted it to be or not.

The Devil was free.

Lucifer was reborn.


	2. How the Plan Got Seriously Botched

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer had a plan...Dean Winchester was not part of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those interested, the music I listened to while writing this chapter is here -> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H37135aCSII&index=7&list=PLa8beQlXLSZWYTnfJOnjH2btrmuxb4u6U  
> Not an actual soundtrack but very good mood setter :)

** Ama  Fratrem Tuum Semper **

_ How The Plan Got Seriously Botched _

_He’d been living in the dark for far too long._

_Fire that he could not see burned around him, scorching his wings. The feathers were long since blackened by anger and ash, torn from his shoulders so that their form was painful and obsolete._

_His head was silent. He’d lost all connection to the garrison when Father had cast him away. The emptiness was maddening...and he was so very **alone**._

_He could feel his children, slinking above him in the pits of Hell. Twisted corruptions of Father’s creation, the proof that **he had been right!**_ ****

_They’d once spoken to him, gathered his instructions and brought glorious chaos to the pitiful apes that walked Father’s earth. They’d corrupted Abel and tempted Cain, lead the humans so astray that Father had wiped the entire earth clean of them. His demons had followed his Father’s “chosen people,” caused corruption in the supposed favored humans. They’d signed Kings into Hell, tortured Job to the brink, and pushed all of humanity so far into the throws of sin that they could not **ever**  be redeemed._

_But then came the Prophet, the Savior, the one who called himself **the Son of God**. He’d sent his children out against him, ordered them in a way to ensure that this Messiah would fail._

_His Demons corrupted the hearts of the Jewish officials and the people. They hung He who was sent to save them on a tree like a common criminal._

_Hell had won._

_But his Father was a manipulative bastard. The human who dared place himself above angels, above **himself** , had succeeded in his plan, rebuilt the connection between mud-monkey and God. He no longer had an unbreakable grip upon his Father’s mistakes._

_His demons no longer came to him. They floundered around without a true purpose, bringing about chaos at random, a far cry from the army of destruction they had been when they had remained loyal to him._

_His Father had something to do with it as well, he suspected. It was as if no one, neither demon nor man, knew where he was, knew where to find him or how to free him. His cage was pushed far into the depths of Hell, and not even the damned came near him._

_Centuries passed_ _._

_He could still feel his children. He could feel the havoc they caused for his brothers in heaven. But he was left ignored, neglected as if he were naught but a legend, forgotten in old tales in in time._

_His anger grew._

_He couldn’t stand it. It was bad enough that he’d been confined to a cage in Hell, like a spoilt child. But now it seemed as if his very existence was being erased, becoming nothing more than an old name in history._

_He wanted **out**._

_He knew Father’s plan. The battle between himself and his older brother would mark the end of the progression of Time. Father’s eldest sons would fight for the earth, and one would kill the other. But the End of Days wasn’t due for thousands upon thousands of years. Time had only just begun to run its coarse, and until the apocalypse began, he would be trapped in the darkness of Hell._

**_He didn’t want to wait_ ** _._

_The thought of his battle with Michael pained him. He supposed it was a sort of final punishment from Father, to set him intentionally against his most beloved brother. But Michael had turned away from him, just as their Father had. He was no longer under his brother’s love. To Michael, he was nothing more than an adversary to be eliminated, yet another means for bringing glory to his own name, and bolstering his favor with Father._

_Why should he prolong his suffering? Why must he remain alone in his cell? Was he not known for his disobedience? Why would he conform to his Father’s plan when his defiance and the choices he made were the reason he was imprisoned in the first place?_

_So he plotted. Alone in the dark and the pain. He could break free…he could gain an advantage over his brother before Heaven even realized that he was a threat._

_But he couldn’t do it alone._

_In order to set his plan into motion, he needed to reach outside the confines of his cage, he needed someone to ensure all the delicate conditions would be in place._

_And someone came._

_There was a rush of power, the blood of innocents bleeding through the soil into his cage. He soaked up the sacrifice as if his existence depended on it, and a voice carried through the doors._

_“Father, look…” a voice called. A demon. “I’m not the praying type, but still…I made the sacrifice, I got you a bag full of nuns. So, uh…can you hear me? Can you whisper through the door?”_

_He felt a rush of excitement pulse through him as he pushed at the cracks, reaching through the sacrifice to speak to his loyal child._

_“I’m here, my son.”_

_The demon’s vicious excitement permeated the darkness around him. “It’s so good to hear your voice, Padre. I’ve been searching for so long! You have no idea. The others have lost faith…dickless heathens. But not me!”_

_“You’ve done well,” he answered. Oh yes…his son had done **very**  well. His prison sentence was as good as over._

_“So, uh…how do I bust you out?”_

_“Lilith,” he practically breathed._

_“Lilith?” He could almost hear the demon falter. “Father she’s… trapped neck deep in the pit. It wont be easy.”_

_“Lilith. Lilith can break the seals,” he insisted, reining in his anger at the demon’s doubt._

_The demon seemed to feel the danger in his father’s voice, because he sobered immediately. “Yeah, ok. But what do I do?”_

_“You must find me a child. A very special child.”_

_“What do you mean? What child?”_

_The space around him was trembling. The sacrifice that the demon had made was already growing thin. It was an effort to push his voice past the void between earth and the cage. He had to move quickly._

_“The child that will become my body.”_

_He felt the malicious intent, the drive of purpose blossom in the demon. “You’re creating a vessel?”_

_“Not just a vessel. The child will be of my very existence.”_

_“What? You mean…you’re gonna rip out your grace?”_

_“It is necessary,” he answered. “My true vessel will not appear until the end of Time. I’m taking things into my own hands, and I **will**  have the advantage on Heaven.”_

_The demon seemed to understand. “Those feathered turkeys wont have any clue. But…father, doesn’t that mean…will you be a… **human**?”_

_Yes…the drawback to his plan. He felt his very grace recoil in disgust._

_“It is the only way to remove myself from the cage. By leaving my grace behind, I can escape from my confinement. And once I’m outside, I can open the doors to rejoin with my grace.”_

_“So what do you want me to do, father? What’s my part in your plan?”_

_“You will have to ensure that my body stays on the right path. Find the child, lead it to this place. My body will have the power to give me freedom.”_

_“How will I find the child? Father, how will I know?”_

_“There is a bloodline,” he began, his shortening time pressing him to speak quickly. “A single branch of humans who can house the grace of an archangel. My body will be born of this bloodline, these descendants of Adam. When you’ve found the child, you will know that it is I.”_

_The demon accepted his words without any question. He found it ironic that a demon held more faith than he._

_“And what of the seals?” the demon asked._

_“Lilith can break the seals,” he repeated. “And I believe you are capable of finding someone fool enough to be a ‘Righteous Man,’” his voice hissed cruelly._

_The demon laughed, an excited cackle of insanity. “Don’t you worry, Padre, we’ll bust you out in no time at all. The party’s almost started!”_

_For the first time in centuries, he could feel a sense of elation deep within himself. No more games, no more rules. He was finally going to rule as he should. The Devil was finally going to be free!_

* * *

 

Sam jerked awake, his head slamming against the ceiling of the stolen car and his heart beating on the outside of his chest. He remembered now. Everything that had been so confusing before now fell perfectly into place.

It had been his plan after all.

The demon blood…Mom burning…Azazel…Dean’s deal…his years in hell…the breaking seals…it was because of him. Everything was his fault.

But it had worked. His plan had succeeded. Azazel had followed his orders. He’d kept Sam on the path that lead to the cathedral, feed him demon blood to give him a taste of his true power, his true purpose. And Lilith was the same. His first demon. She’d broken the seals, taken the time to craft a plan with all the cracks sealed in. She’d played off the anger that filled his being, pressing him into action, enlisting the help of the lowly demon, Ruby, intended to destroy any human impulses he might have had.

And Sam had played along. Azazel started the fire, and Lilith and Ruby fueled it. He’d given up his humanity, drowned himself in blood and darkness, and freed his grace from the cage. He became Lucifer once again. Everything had worked perfectly.

No…not perfectly. Sam’s eyes flickered towards the hunched figure driving the car flying down the highway. There was definitely a large error in the plan’s execution.

Sam didn’t dare speak to Dean. He didn’t even know what he would say if he did. Dean Winchester…was  _not part of the plan._  

The plan was for him to give up his own humanity, to realize that he was greater, and to be triumphant in his return. But something unexpected happened. His humanity had become latched, completely centered on this human, and he was only just realizing how powerful human emotions were.

Humanity was _infectious_.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. These conflicting parts of himself, so divided in goals yet so similar they were nearly indistinguishable. Sam wished that he’d never found his grace…he longed to go back to his blissful ignorance of only hours before, when he was _human_. Lucifer longed for the human feelings to be purged from his body, to feel nothing but the burning anger and desire for revenge that had kept him sane since Michael’s betrayal. Both just wished they were either one or the other.

He wanted to rage against Michael, make him feel the pain he’d felt, destroy his elder brother’s perfect image of their Father. But to do this, he would have to cast aside the rest of his humanity. He’d have to give up Dean. Two elder brothers…tearing him in different directions. His grace screamed for action, to gather his armies and begin the battle with Michael to _finally end this_ , but his soul wept for the comfort of his big brother.

Dean had  _raised_  him. Taught him to walk and talk, loved him without wavering. His human brother had sacrificed himself time and time again, gone to  _hell_ …all for his sake. He’d been alone so long, no one had dared love him since his most beloved brother turned his back on him. How could he, newly thrust into the confusion humanity, not latch onto the only comfort he’d felt in an eternity? But he’d never expected to become so strongly attached to a human. He never for even a moment considered the possibility that he might feel for humanity, that he might love _back._ But now…he felt that if he were to lose Dean, he wouldn’t survive.

With a sickening jolt, he realized that he’d once felt the same way of Michael. 

Dean slammed his hand against the radio’s power button, causing Sam to jump slightly. The sudden absence of horrific news reports seems to intensify the tension in the air. Nervous eyes glanced over at Dean. His knuckles were white against the steering wheel, shoulders held rigidly forward. He had jaw clenched so tightly that Sam could see the muscles twitch spasmodically in his cheeks.

As if Dean could feel Sam’s eyes on him, he spoke for the first time since his hurried “Get in,” when they stole the car from the airport parking lot.

“We need to find Cas. Now.”

His tone was clipped, and the younger Winchester could only give a small jerk of his head.

Sam longed to speak to his brother, to explain, to apologize, to beg forgiveness, but Lucifer knew he should keep his fucking mouth shut.

After all, how do you explain to your older brother that you're the Devil? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the kudos and comments! I'm working on responding :) I've got way to much planned for this...


	3. The Prophet Who Knew Too Much

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack Inspiration 
> 
> The End of the World – 2. Grace of the St. Paul by Joe Hisashi
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vHzoo1uQ6hI&index=5&list=PL454F59CFA4B33FFE

**_Sorry this chapter is a little short, and very overdue! I just have so many plans for this that I want to skip ahead and write more exciting stuff than the beginning! But I'm working on it...slowly!_ **

* * *

 

Chuck’s house was practically post-apocalyptic. And Sam felt every bit as evil as his Satanic reputation for phrasing it that way inside his head. The furniture had been thrown around the room haphazardly. Lucifer knew that he was looking for the burnt impression of wings, the sign that an angel inside a vessel had perished, but there wasn’t such a clean image. It looked as if Castiel had been blown apart, his wings not even having enough form to make any semblance of the seraph. The physical remnants of Jimmy Novak were equally as gruesome.

A sharp blow connected with the back of his head, sending him stumbling forward. Lucifer twisted around, nearly attacking the _scum_ that dared touch him, but he was too shocked that he hadn’t even noticed someone’s presence. Standing there, ashen faced and gripping a plunger as if his life depended on it was Chuck. Sam felt his heart clench in recognition and a flood of indistinguishable human emotion. “Geez, Ow!” he said, looking at Chuck with disbelief. Whether or not Chuck was a friend, (and whether or not Sam was the Dark Lord of All Evil) being smacked on the head with a plunger was not something he particularly enjoyed.

“Chuck,” Dean said, a sense of urgency in his voice. “Where’s Cas?”

But there was something wrong with Chuck. The prophet had not taken his eyes off Sam. His hands were trembling violently, and he looked even more terrified than he had before he’d hit Sam. Suddenly Sam realized… _Chuck knew_.

“Chuck?” Dean called the frozen man’s name again, walking in front of Sam to where the prophet stood. “Come on man, snap out of it! What’s wrong?”

Sam was panicking. Chuck would tell Dean…he’d know that Sam wasn’t _Sam_ anymore. _He had to stop this_.

Chuck looked like he would pass out at any moment. His eyes flickered from Sam to Dean, then back again, his mouth opening.

Their eyes met, and for a moment, Sam was wholly _Lucifer_ , The Great Adversary, Evil Incarnate. The archangel held the prophet’s eyes in his colder-than-death glare, and gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head that clearly said _keep your fucking mouth shut._

Chuck’s eyes grew wide with horror, and the dirtied man stumbled backwards, away from the kitchen, nearing falling over a chair lying on its side before crumpling onto the couch.

“Whoa, whoa, hey! Easy man!” Dean said taking a careful step forward. “Its just us! Okay?”

Sam followed Dean into Chuck’s living room, eyes flickering back and forth between Dean and Chuck in a panic. Chuck gave a sort of high pitched whine when he saw Sam approaching, so Sam halted in the doorway, settling his eyes on Chuck in a constant warning.

“Chuck, listen to me,” Dean was saying, seeming to completely ignore the fact that the prophet was gazing terrified at his younger brother. “Where’s Cas?”

Chuck made a choking sound, before he forced out, his voice rasping, “Dead. Gone. Exploded like a water balloon of chunky soup…”

The little bit of color in Dean’s face drained away. “Cas…you stupid bastard,” Dean hissed under his breath. His eyes locked on something on Chuck’s head, and Dean reached up to pull it out, unsticking it from the hair.

“Fucking hell, is that a molar?” Sam blurted out before he could stop himself. Chuck whimpered and promptly passed out.

Dean swore loudly, chucking the tooth to the floor. “Sam, make sure he doesn’t choke on his own vomit or something. I’m going to go grab him some water…and a towel. Christ.”

As Dean brushed passed him, Sam entered the room. What the hell was he supposed to do now? Chuck _knew_. He’d tell Dean, he’d tell the angels. Unless he could figure something out he was completely _screwed_.

But if the prophet was going to expose him, then why was he wasting his time here? He should be gathering his horsemen, getting ready for the main battle before Heaven started to interfere, otherwise the advantages from suffering the life of a human for so long were pointless. But Sam held him back. He didn’t want to leave Dean…he didn’t want to be abandoned by his big brother again, and as weak as that made him feel, he couldn’t deny it.

What the hell was he supposed to do now? The apocalypse was beginning, and the angels undoubtedly knew that he was free. Hell, they knew he was trying to break free before his plan even came to full fruition. Did that mean that they had already been preparing their armies? Was Michael already prepared for battle? And here he was, sitting on his ass and staring at a prophet of all things while the battle trumpets were probably already sounding. This was his best chance to have revenge on Father and Michael, and he was _wasting time_.

He had an army to lead.

But what would Dean do if he knew that Sam was Lucifer? That he was trying to bring humanity to its complete eradication?

What would Dean do if he knew that Sam was worse than every monster they’d ever faced up against?

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t stand to see the disappointment and hatred in his brother’s eyes. The strain in Dean’s face from the demon blood was already driving him insane, but at least Dean hadn’t ditched him yet, or left him for dead. At least he was still _here_.

Hell…was he seriously considering giving up his ultimate chance at victory for a _human_?

A choking sound brought Sam out of his spiraling thoughts, jerking his head up to look at Chuck. The grizzled man was convulsing in his seat, his eyes open, and rolling into the back of his head. He let out a choked gasp.

“Dean!” Sam called on instinct, hurrying over towards Chuck.

Dean burst into the room. “Sammy? What –” his voice cut off as Chuck began to speak. 

“ _Lucifer is missing,”_ Chuck rasped, and Sam felt his heart clench in fear. “ _Nick remains abandoned. The angels have lost the Michael sword, but will find it before the next sunrise. It will be found in the castle on a hill made of forty-two dogs. They come, here, now. The deceivers will be deceived. Bonds will be tested. The fallen will rise. Lucifer must make his choice. The Michael sword is the key. The angels are coming.”_

A deep shudder ran through Chuck’s body, and he slumped against the couch, breathing heavy, his eyes half lidded and bleary.

It was a good thing Sam no longer needed oxygen to sustain himself, because he’d completely forgotten how to breathe. The Michael sword was on earth. It was already _on earth_. It shouldn’t be possible! The entire point of his plan was to free himself before Heaven knew, so that he would have an advantage while they scrambled to recreate the Michael sword on earth.

But it was for nothing. Michael’s vessel had been born, and worse yet, the angels very nearly had it in their possession. Lucifer wasn’t inhabiting his true vessel…he was in a body created to hide himself until he managed to free his grace. The advantage of an unnoticed resurrection didn’t match the raw power his true vessel would have brought, and if Michael had his true vessel, then his older brother had the major advantage.

But…but the angels had _lost_ it. Which meant that he could _find_ it and _take_ it before them.

“Shit!” Dean cursed loudly. “Sam…Sammy we got to move. The angels are coming here!”

“What?” Sam rasped, too distracted to realize what that meant.

“Angels! As in the assholes who helped kick start the damn Apocalypse!” Dean hissed, grabbing on to Sam’s arm and pulling him towards the front of the house. “After the crap they pulled I don’t trust them for a god damn minute! We gotta get out of her before they come.”

Suddenly Sam jumped into gear. Angels. Angels were _bad_ , bad for Sam and Dean, bad for Lucifer. “Right.”

Dean started out of the room towards the front door, hardly sparing a glance at Chuck, who was reaching for a notepad, and had began furiously scribbling and murmuring to himself, still in a daze from his episode.

Sam looked back at Chuck conflicted, before making a split decision and marching over to him, clamping his hands down on the prophet’s shoulder forcefully. The man’s head jerked up, as if only just realizing that the devil was still standing in his blood-stained living room. His eyes were wide, still filled with terror, but he didn’t look away from the intense glare.

“You listen to me,” Lucifer whispered dangerously, speaking quickly to get moving. “You won’t tell _anyone._ Not the angels, not the demons, not Dean. You won’t even write it down. Do you understand me?”

For a moment, Chuck just sat there, his eyes flickering across his face, and just as Lucifer decided that the prophet needed another push to answer, he made a funny sound in his throat as he nodded, just once.

Lucifer breathed out sharply, an unexpected relief twisting in his stomach, and he turned, heading out after Dean.

“You’re still Sam.”

Chuck’s voice stopped him dead in his tracks. Slowly, he turned to face the prophet, who was standing now, his face still fearful, but his posture oddly firm.

“Sammy! Let’s go!” Dean’s voice cut through the building tension in the room, causing Sam’s head to jerk towards the door.

“You’re still Sam,” Chuck said again, his voice trembling slightly.

For a moment, Lucifer’s eyes glanced back at the prophet, but when he opened his mouth to retort, he found his throat had closed.

Without another word Sam left Chuck in his demolished living room, climbing into the familiar front seat of the Impala.


End file.
